


Table

by mansikka



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, POV Original Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-04
Updated: 2016-02-04
Packaged: 2018-05-18 05:17:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5899783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mansikka/pseuds/mansikka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A table knows everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Table

The table had seen many comings and goings over the eighty or so years since it had become a fixture in the Men of Letters bunker. There had been fights, feuds, forgotten promises and friendships forged and broken. There had been pacts signed on its surfaces, spells cast and spilt onto its varnish. There had been blood, and sweat, and yes, plenty of tears.

More recently, it had witnessed the establishment of a home, and all that came with it: love, loss, learning and longing.

The two brothers that had made the bunker their home had become their own pieces of furniture. The taller one took longer to actually feel that it could be a home, but the shorter one embraced it with all that he had. The table had propped them both up in sleep, held their dinners while they ate, and joined their awkward silences as they argued.

The shorter one was in love.

It resonated in his footsteps and pounded out from his heart. In the presence of his angel, he was a coiled furnace of emotions that brimmed beneath the surface for so long that it seemed he would never allow himself to be happy.

The angel made him happy, so very, very happy.

And when he allowed it to happen, he made his angel very happy too.

Which is when the notes had started.

The notes were possibly the table’s most favourite development in all of its history, which was an odd thing for an inanimate object to feel, but still.

One morning, the table observed the shorter one walking through the bunker, humming to himself. He made two coffees; one he poured into a travel cup and the other into a mug that he set down on the table before leaving, sticking a note to its side.

The angel walked through moments later, fingers touching the edge of the note and a smile the edge of his lips.

And so began the habit of the notes. These are the table’s favourites.

*****

##  **Morning, Angel. Here’s your coffee just how you like it.**

_I do not have a ‘pet name’ for you. I just call you_ ** _mine_** _._

*****

##  **My favourite part about you? Obvious. Got to be your hands ;)**

_ I like it when you draw emoticons on our notes :) why my hands? _

##  **1\. The way you wrap your fingers around your first cup of coffee in the morning like it’s a lifeline.**

##  **2\. The way you tap your fingertips as you point out parts of text when we’re researching. Sorry, you’re researching. You say I’m just distracting you. I don’t think you’re complaining. Are you complaining, Cas?**

##  **3\. The way you skim your hands over your pant legs when you’re nervous.**

##  **4\. The way you press your fingers to that cleft beneath your lips when you’re thinking.**

##  **5\. The way you touch me.**

_ My favourite part about you is your eyes. _

  1. _Your eyes speak a thousand languages that I get lost in when I try to understand them._
  2. _Your eyes caress me with the look of something so gentle that it is like you are the one with feathers._
  3. _Your eyes feast on me as though you are famished and I am your first meal in days._
  4. _Your eyes love me even when your mouth, and mind, cannot find the words._
  5. _Your eyes smile so brightly I feel I am in the presence of a sun._



##  **I wish I could speak like you do, Cas. Your words are so much better than mine.**

_ I disagree, Dean. I love every one of your notes. _

*****

##  **Do NOT let Sam see this note.**

_ I think Sam saw your note this morning. Perhaps we should be more discreet about where we leave them. _

##  **Not my fault if Sammy’s a prude. Did you like it?**

_ Very much. You have an astonishing memory. And an incredible talent; you’re quite the artist, Dean. _

##  **Nah, just some scribblings. Besides, not like I haven’t seen you naked often enough.**

_ That does happen often since we share a bed every night. _

*****

There were many, many more notes. Some saccharin sweet, others enough to make even an ancient table blush with the heat behind their words. Others still were far too personal to share, and the table felt like a voyeur just being in their presence.

But whatever form they took, they all spoke of love.

Even tables know love when they see it.

It had ‘felt’ their love too, enough times to make its legs quake with wear, and it feared that one day it would not be strong enough to hold them up. If it could avert its eyes it would.

It would also cringe along in solidarity with the taller brother every time he entered the room after that one time he’d walked in unannounced. Some love was not meant to be shared. And some body parts were not supposed to be seen by brothers. Especially when they were being shared with angels.

But the table was happy that they were happy, and that was enough.

*****

##  **I love you, Cas. Maybe I can’t say the words out loud but… you know it, right?**

_:) Love._ ** _Always_** _._

_ ***** _

  
  
  



End file.
